I used to complain about how i don’t know where my anger went, its back and did i ever miss it! Its like an ball of hot fury in my chest that helps motivate me, its my own kick in the balls, its my fuck dese bitches and here’s how, it’s my swag, its a cool calculating clear seeing shield and filter, its my i’m gonna get it done, no matter what, its my i don’t take shit from noone..its my action, doing, moving emotion.
I’m tired of people and thier bullshit. I get it done 
just a quick rant. I have to have this one female lover of mine who was skinner than me, i’m not even on the larger scale of FAT, I’m a size 20, back then used to be an 18, closer to 17 actually, anyways this woman was NEVER more than a 16 in her late thirties and ALWAYs claimed FATness, yes she wasn’t skinny, true she wasn’t a size 8, 10, or even a 12 but there is no dount whatsoever in my mind that she was a size 18 MAX, not that i’m the fat police BUT that was the skinniest i’d EVER be, i mean i did come down to a 14 but that was facilitared by a bunch of fucked up choices…
I just think its funny in this times of postmodern socalled radical feminist performance cos none of it is more than that, from where i’m sitting…that people are desperate to seek out anbd claim ”oppression “ or victimhood. In her case it is partucularly mindfuckling because she spoke a game about personal responsibility and accountability while utilizing and exploitating her priviledge position amongets other les privileged folk than her to encourage them to realize thier agency and realize thier full potential, be her, act her, believe her, do her…if u dont understand me. Its ok, just a nte on the contradictory predatory behaviour of some sadly older supposed radical feminists i know, from a bitter disullusioned once- minion and pedetalizer…who was really only seeking mentorship, support and guuidance…sucjh is life in queer community. I trust that i will continue to dream.
If this post make ABSOLUTELY no sense to you, its cool, i’m more trying to make a note to myself
So in case it hasn’t of course occured to you yet, that is of course assuming you are indeed a frequent/regular enough reader to know what the fuck i’m talking bout in any case..i’m Fat, a fattie, overweight with the largest thick est est thunder thights and flabby arms..i mean ima decent size 22…seemingly gone down 2 whole dress seixes to a size 20 since last winter which is rather SHOCKIng…I want to be clear, i’m not in denial, i have internalized fatphobia that means at times i look at my legs, glorous thunder thighs they are are observe the numerous florishing pimpleification caused by the presence of what is known as/ referred to mostly as cellulite and become filled with trepidation fear of being reffered to as a fat dimpled COw…and my excitement, joy and general feeling of enthusiasm for the upcoming/ prepared for adventure, outingm gathering, event whatever starts to resemble something of a horrific nightmare constructed the oyibo wu agbara fucking geniuses of domination…all of a sudden i’m in the matrix deperately needing to recall all the self loving feminist affirming big woman appreciating words that oft flow from the lips of my lovers a recent one told me…i don’t like nothing small …that brought/still brngs a smile to my face everytime i think of him
In anycase, i was/have been very very uber conscious of my diet most of this summer, exercising, walkinging eating veggies, salads no beers and steak dinner, now i work in a feminist womens institution and most of the women are on a diet! serious ones, people on pills, dust, patches, meal delivery, everything you can think of and i find myself reacting VERY negatively and in resistance to this general aura of fat detestation, feminine desperation and adoration of the skinny girls in the office who appear to be effortlessly skinny eating still only half thier lunch for the whole day, drinking only water never juice or pop, never ever eating the cake at a bithday/celebration…i was so pissed we bought this really expensice DELICIOUs glutun, sugar, flour everything free and that wasted it..nibbling never actualling swallowing the damned thing and being so “full”
In reaction, i’ve been a LOT more that iusually do, drinking waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more juice/pop than i usually do, i desist from those things because of the hgh sugar, i’m trying not to be a sugar/crack addict…anywaysI’ve been eating breakfast snacks constantly eating and its got to stop, I’m not going to change my diet in response to other people, but i feel strongly compelled, i will never be a skinny bitch EVER.
i denounce all things that are involved in the cultural epistomelogy of self dug grave that is the miserable, insecure skinny bitch
Today is one of those days when ALL i want is the company of a familiar person, while i do my dishes, moan and groan about how difficult my life is…someone who can cook, offer me some care that is kind, loving and geniume..i miss my dear friend today.
So i’m walking in my neighbourhood, which appears to be experiencing an influx of black and non caucasian folks..i’ve been seeing and encountering a lot of friendly, mature seeming, and open to engagement/small talk people which has exited me to no end..or maybe i’m just hanging out more in my neighbourhood…either way..today i’m stepping out of second cup with my latte in hand, thinking its going to be a good day, passport here..i’m for sure reaching naija and overall feeling very content with my breakfast in hand when a guy from sierra leone, beautiful man, flashes me this grilled smile!…
Called me as soon as i step into the office and says he’ll call right after five! I’m excited… Oh AND then on my way to work i discover a Beautiful earthenware pot…
Here’s to making space in my life to be pleasantly surprised by unexpected encounters :)
I’m going home! I’m going to Nigeria..its official, its offical, god i’m been filled with the indescribable sense of joy that flows from my centre.nothing can distrupt it, its the settling feeling that my life is worth living. Its been over a decade since i stepped foot on my motherland.
The best part every dime is MINE
So two days ago my phone died, the thing just kpeme, nothing short of a sacrifice of $200 would bring it back to life. You see, I’ve been committed to using a phone with a qwerty keyboard, i’m an admitted textaholic, i go text you before i call you, i go call you once i talk finish, i dey text my mama on the regular for Naija and my papa self dey send me blessings and prayers for text. I need my doddammed phone. To make matters worse, my home phone was FUCKEd up because i been dey call naija, fucking west of Canada everywhere on my home phone and racked up a SENSELESS bill.
No home phone, no internet, what i need is my phone.
Anyways i go to the bell store – Now out of all the mobility providers here in Canada, i’ve been with bell, its like a marriage, we curese, fight, separate, go to collections and back but i always return to bell. My loyalty was solidified with bell because when Virgin mobile, T mobile, Rogers(dem laugh me for there), Solo, Telus and even sprint back when i was homeless, didn’t have a permanent address and no real documented income…I called bell one day, from Robarts library at UofT, i got this east African, very likely young Somalian woman on the phone who gave me a plan, a one year plan at that, and put a spending cap on it..SIMPLE! that enabled to take calls, take temp jobs as they came up and reduced the feeling say i dey suffer for this here Cana..so i stayed with bell. Have stayed with them no matter what.
Yesterday though was my last straw, first of all, thunder fire that pot bellied middle aged crisising old queen ass Italian mutherfucker who look my phone finish talk say sorry I can’t help you! Bell plan no cover water damage But it was my charger that was damaged (another reason not to have people over to your mutherfucking house who do shit without looking/checking to see what damage they are causing)
Imagine me O! No phone, I was supposed to call my supervise and koola some long story, no go!, number i forget, address for meeting wey i don late for…dey notes for my phone, numbers my phone, EVERYTHING my phone.
Yesterday i called them and gave them a piece of my mind…shout but this time i was serious, they said..ok take the sumsung acer, i’m like fuck that if you EVER catch me near a Samsung again shoot me. Either nokia or LG, nothing else. LG get water problem Nokia ‘s are the best except they are so fucking ugly!
All to say guess who has free text messaging, browsing, call display etc for under 50, that right!. The lesson here? Boundaries..they work!
On another note, its been two days of freedom from calls, texting, wanting someone to call, alarm with the phone, i’m TOOOO dependent on the phone, i get phantom rings!!!!
this is a long overdue update on the igbo lesbian fantasy…that was rekindled here
Anyways i went from being ecstatic to being very very weary of this woman because she wasn’t saying she was bi, she was saying she was questioning and dating men, probably wanted to get married to one and there i was in full fledged fantasy land…not long after wondering what if? we could be a couple?
I mostly remain indiffrent and committed to us being/remaining simply friends, wa hang out whatever..simple right? and then one night we both REAL twisted as in i think a drank a whole bottle of brandy and had like a hideous amounts of tequila shots, next thing you know shes dancing and writhing and gyrating and rubbing, caressing ALL over me?????
Now normally it’d be time for a good old fashion, pump those break and slow your roll good old fashioned lesbian processing conversation but mty judgement was SEVERELY impaired and i was curious…
So we fuck. twice at night and once in the morning.
Then i left and went home. One week later after i’d called her later that day she calss me and wants to hang out i get us tickets for a show and later on she tells me that she just wants to be “friends” and all these other things that i do not recall at the moment and so i say to her ok thats cool but i’m confused about why you decide now, you could have spared me the bullshit before you got into my pants but its cool…i shoulds known better and stayed the FUCK away from a straight girl and by this i do not mean the biphobic sentiment that women who fuck men cannot have a relationship with women instead i mean those women who are literally just experimenting and are too unethical to tell you beforehand and so they circumvent all conversation where you might fucking find out that they have no real intentions/inclinations/preparedness to live a queer life instead you physically embody thier rebellion against thier boyfriend or are a manifiestation of thier desire to prove to themselves that they are eccentric, behemian and far from ordinary.
In reality however, that are far more committted deep down to thier desires and intentions of living a TRULY heteronormative existence with a middleaged husband behind a picket fence in a sburb or a box in the sky condo, they want the benefits of being a part of queer community, having queer friends without taking ANY of the risks, challenges that those of us who have painstakingly risked our family, home and EVER belonging to come out not as a grand gesture but because we needed the loving support of our family and most cherished as we liveed our queer lives..
I’ve known three of these women in my like so far, I’m happy to say that i’m over it, I dont care if you are from my local government area, from my maternal or paternal village, i dont care anymore, unless you ass can demonstrate a commitment to living a truly queer life, i’m not talking white people’s definition of a lesbian with birkenstocks and patchouli, i’m talking unless you’ve demonstrated a desire to live queerness, to appreciate from within, to live your life to reflect this inner desire as opposed to an exotification of the other..STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!
I’m realizing that part of the things that makes it iompossible for most of the naija girls i’ve met to commit to a queer life is deep internalized homophobia, the belief that we don’t exist, that we are unnatural, that we can never take each other seriously, well i exist and i’ve met several others and i have xample from when i be small pikin so clearly thats a myth. I’m committed to living my life the way my heart requires in order to be happy.
It is the other side of this internalized homophobia that makes me so very fucking desperate when it comes to igbo girls that at the slightest sign of queerness, i’m down…thats the same shit that got me into all my past fucked up relationships from exhusbands to exfucking friends…so I’m burying it.
From mow on, i’ll be checking myself, slow and steady, untill i see what i want, no leaps, no faith. There is no scarcity. We abound. That storyline is DEAD
bessie head and Nina simone: Women at vanier and detention centres today..its time i found out more and educated myself on two things
Successful instances of black/african resistance (argument continues on whether or not colonization counts…to irk all the postcolonists out there)
the Movement to abolish the Prison Industrial Complex, its a system that black women SIMPLY cannot profit from, i’ve been slack..i know nothing about prevalent though/works on this…
